


If we dream forever, whatever happens next

by brokendrums



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokendrums/pseuds/brokendrums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall meets Harry on the train and can't stop thinking about him. Then one evening when they get off the train, Harry invites him back to his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If we dream forever, whatever happens next

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I get on a train with nothing else to distract me. Just excuse me because I'm trying something different to distract me from other fic nightmares. Also, this was supposed to just be kissing and the odd fantasy blowjob but I had to throw some feelings in a the end. Title from The Fixxx by Nautic

He meets him on the train. 

And Niall isn’t sure what to do with a friend you meet on the train. 

His name is Harry, and he has dimples when he smiles - which is often and there’s wings peeking out of the shirts he wears - like he picks them just for their gaping necklines that show off his collarbones. 

The first day he meets him, he spies him on the platform first. He has a bag slung over his shoulder and he’s fiddling with his phone, ticket clamped between his lips and he looks up slowly, blinking at the train as the doors begin to close and the engine starts up. His shirt is falling open and he looks so different to the rest of the businessmen on the platform in his skinny, too tight jeans and dirty converse. 

Niall smiles to himself because he loves this, loves watching people running for the train or the bus desperately trying to get on. Harry - well he doesn’t know him as Harry yet - doesn’t though, he just blinks and smiles like he’s laughing to himself as he punches the button the door. 

It doesn’t open and he stands there as the train starts to pull away, eyes flicking down to his phone again. Niall watches him, neck turning as the train picks up speed and he passes him, sliding past him quickly. He’s too close to the edge, a step past the yellow line and Niall wants to shout at him, scold him and push him back in case he gets sucked under like in all those ads they show around Christmas. 

His eyes flick up at just the last minute and Niall’s nearly sitting backwards in his seat so he can still catch a glimpse of him through the tinted window. He smiles again, cheeks dimpling and then the trains turning round a bend and he’s out of sight. 

*

He actually meets him a few days later when he had nearly forgotten all about the boy on the platform and his long legs and lovely dimples. Niall’s at a table this time and he wishes he wasn’t because the man beside opposite him keeps kicking his foot and Niall’s not sure if it’s an accident or not but the train‘s packed with the typical early Friday rush to get home and he‘s lucky to get one by the window anyway. There’s a woosh of the doors to the compartment behind him and suddenly there’s a head of curly hair in his periphery. 

“Cool if I sit here?” he asks and plops down anyway. He shakes out his hair which looks a little damp and bends over to push his bag under his seat. He has another one, slightly bigger which he sticks it in the overhead compartment and Niall can’t really help following the way his t-shirt creeps up his belly when he stretches. There’s more ink there, a smattering of words that Niall can’t read before he’s sitting down again. 

He’s grinning when Niall risks a glance upwards and he isn’t sure if he’s been caught or not. He doesn’t say anything because you normally don’t speak to random people on trains but he just smiles at him and settles into the seat, pulling out his phone and messing around on it. 

Niall’s tense the rest of the way home, he can feel the heat radiating off Mr. Tight Jeans and when the carriage bumps and rocks with the curves of the line their wrists brush together. He lets his eyes close against the blur of outside and definitely doesn’t imagine what it would feel like if he reached out, grabbed the boys hand and dragged him off to the loo. Pulling him inside the rickety door and pushing him up against the grim toilet to suck him off. His imagination is particularly vivid and he can nearly feel the phantom weight of a dick in his mouth and a hand at his neck, keeping him down, when there’s a very real tug at the hair on the back of his head. 

Niall startles, blinking around wildly and pushing the heel of his palm, hopefully discreetly enough, against himself so that no one will notice. 

“Our stop mate,” Mr. Tight Jeans and Probably Very Pretty Cock grins at him. He’s got his bags ready to go and Niall feels his cheeks flame because his eyes trail over him, glancing at the way he still has his hand under the lapel of his coat and pressed against the base of his dick. 

“Right,” Niall coughs and ignores how the man opposite him is smirking now. “Thanks, must‘ve dropped off.” 

“No problem,” he laughs and turns to get off the train leaving Niall to scramble off after him. 

*

They turn it into a bit of a habit, except Niall tries to keep the too vivid fantasies to a minimum. Niall finds a table if he can, or a double around the same place and looks for Harry on the platform. He slopes in, bag slung over his shoulder on a Tuesday, Friday and every other Thursday but never on a Monday or Wednesday. Niall‘s jealous of his work schedule to be perfectly honest. 

He grins at him the first few times, nodding at him before slouching down in his seat and untangling ear phones or reading the back page of a paper that’s lying about. He eats a banana one Tuesday evening, his hair pulled back in a ridiculous hair band that makes it stick up and frizz over because he’s been at the gym but Niall can’t keep his eyes off him, the way his tongue pokes out before he takes a bite and the way his cheeks bulge. It’s easy to imagine other things that could make his cheeks bulge and he wonders idly if he’d let him hold him down, push into the heat of his mouth and fuck until he gags. He supposes that he would look lovely, hands gripping the porcelain of the sink in the train bathroom until they were white, tears rolling down his hot cheeks, tonguing him until he comes. 

Mr. Banana-Man looks like a swallower and with that thought Niall has to turn to glare out the window to stop his blush working further up his neck.  
He’s caught though.

“Would you like a bit?” he asks from behind him and Niall’s stomach sinks. He turns around, willing his cheeks to cool down and what he hopes is passable confused expression on his face. 

“Pardon?” 

“My banana.” His voice is slow and rough and he’s holding out the end of the banana to him, just about a bite left in it. 

“No,” Niall murmurs faintly, cheeks burning off his face. He watches as he pulls off the last chunk of banana and pushes it past his lips, licking them until they glisten and Niall’s sure he’s doing it on purpose, the fucker. 

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he grins at him after Niall nearly passes out. Harry cocks his head, grinning at him until his cheeks dimple and Niall would really like to lick them, poke his tongue into them and lick across the seam of his mouth. He wonders for a moment if he tastes of banana and how long it would take him to just get him to taste of _him._

“Niall,” he manages to mutter when he realises he’s been staring at the green of Harry’s eyes too long. He clears his throat and feels his cheek pink up further. “Nice to meet you.”  
Harry’s grin widens. “Nice to meet you too.” 

 

*

 

It’s raining and Harry follows him off the train. It’s nearly dark, November weather making everyone hurry off the platform and towards bus stops and the taxi ranks. Niall pulls his bag over his head and groans to himself, it’s after five so Zayn will be at work by now and won’t have time to come and pick him up. 

“You busy?” Harry asks. He hears him before he sees him, hiding under an awning just beside the ticket office. Niall looks around him and Harry smiles at him. 

“Not really,” Niall shrugs because it’s Friday so that means Liam’s date night with Danielle and Zayn’s shift at the restaurant. Niall had planned on lying about the house until Zayn came home with leftovers and they could play Fifa, pretending not to hear Liam moaning through the walls all night. 

“Do you wanna go to a party?” Harry asks him and he looks kind of nervous under his hood, hand coming up to scrub through his hair before he pulls his jacket over himself again. 

Niall’s wary for a moment, he hardly knows Harry except he likes bananas and doesn’t have to wear ties to work (he’s a bit jealous). They’ve sat beside each other on the train for a few months now and Niall’s only known his name for nearly half of that. The height of their conversations has been about is how rubbish Derby have been playing lately and the increase in train faire by 60p. 

In his mind though, he knows that Harry has a wicked way with his tongue and that nearly makes up for the fact he doesn‘t know if he‘s a serial killer or not. 

The rain falls a bit harder around them and his socks are wet so Niall just nods a little bit morosely. 

“Sure,” he mutters and offers Harry a wet smile. “Is this place close by?” 

Harry laughs, tugging the strap of his bag over his chest and reaching out for Niall’s hand. “Real close, promise.” 

 

It’s not really close and they walk so by the time they get to a little house in the middle of a terrace Niall’s soaked through and he can’t feel his toes. His hand is still wrapped in Harry’s though, and that’s nicer than he had expected. The house looks quiet, windows dark except for the dirty pane of glass in the door that glows faintly orange and the gate squeaks when they push through but Harry has a key so Niall isn’t as worried as he probably should be. 

“So who’s house is this?” he asks him, tripping over the threshold with numb feet and following him into the hallway. The light at the top of the stairs is flickering which should ring some alarm bells but once he’s inside he can hear signs of life on in, laughter from the kitchen and footsteps above him. Harry chuckles, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it over the end of the banister and nodding up the stairs. 

“Mine,” Harry mumbles, climbing the stairs two at a time. Niall rushes to keep up, running his fingers through his soaked fringe and trying not to shiver. “And a few lads I live with.” 

Niall nods and tells himself that even if it was less vague he’d still have no idea who he was talking about anyway. They pass a bathroom, steamy and dark like someone’s just had a shower and then another door before they come to a darkened doorframe. 

“Home sweet home,” he grins brightly over his shoulder before walking on in. His room’s a mess, piles of what Niall can only call stuff over every surface. There’s posters tacked to the wall and fliers from clubs around the city. A pair of dark curtains cover the window and the duvet is haphazardly strewn over the bed. It’s homey and suits what little of Harry’s personality Niall’s knows, from the candles on top of the chest of drawers to the stack of empty glasses on the floor by the bed. Niall stands awkwardly just over the door as Harry drops his bag and starts to strip off. He should probably look away but it feels like he’s frozen on the spot, rain dripping off the end of his nose as Harry unbuttons his jeans and kicks out of his wet socks. 

“You want a shirt?” Harry asks him, he’s half bent over to get his jeans over his ankle but Niall can only focus on the lean expanse of his back and peek of black over his side and down his ribs. “Niall?” 

“Yeah,” he blurts, snapping his attention from the way his boxers are slung low over his hips and back to Harry’s face. He’s smirking again but he nods at him, finally untangling himself from wet denim to root about his wardrobe. 

He finds a pair of jeans that don’t look like they have to be painted on and a shirt that vaguely resembles something Niall would usually wear and hands them over. They stand at arms length and Niall feels so suddenly awkward, turning to face the bed as he pulls off his sodden clothes. He’s not made for this - one night stands and being naked in front of strangers. 

Harry potters about behind him, not bothered that he’s only in his underwear, fiddling with his iPod dock until a song comes on and sticking his phone on the charger. He scrubs a towel through his hair before throwing it onto the bed beside where Niall’s just set his coat. Niall nods at him in acknowledgement but can‘t meet his eyes before taking a breath and reaching for the belt of his trousers. Harry just offers him a twinkling smile before he’s settling into the chair by the desk and checking his email _in his skin tight damp boxers._

Niall can feel his mouth go dry but he uses the time Harry’s distracted to strip out of his wet clothes and pull on the ones Harry’s lent him. They’re surprisingly soft and smell a bit like lemons and Niall smiles, allowing himself to relax a little when Harry shoots another smile over his shoulder and perches himself at the end of the bed. 

There’s more noise coming from downstairs now, the sound of the front door opening and closing and a thump of music from the room directly below them. Harry doesn’t look too rushed though, skimming through his iPod again before he pulls on another t-shirt that shows far too much of his collarbones. He finds a pair of jeans under a pile of clothes and pulls them on too, flicking another grin towards Niall before grabbing his phone. He pauses just when he’s at the door and Niall’s right behind him, bumping into his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” Niall mutters taking a step back. Harry smiles at him, darting in to press his lips to the corner of his mouth. Niall freezes, hands out in front of him, half way to grab onto Harry’s hips out of instinct. 

“What was that for?” Niall asks, peeking his eyes open to just see Harry calmly smile back at him. 

“Just thought you looked cute in my shirt.” 

Niall’s cheeks turn pink again which makes Harry laugh, head ducked down like he can‘t believe he made Niall blush. “Let’s go,” he tells him brightly, hooking an arm around Niall‘s neck. “Lots of people for you to meet.” 

*

There are a lot of people, the house fills up quickly and by Niall’s third drink he’s nearly met every single person that‘s crammed into the living room and spilling into the kitchen and beyond. He follows Harry around and he’s vaguely aware he looks like a little lost puppy but faced with disappearing in the crowd of strangers he pushes the thought to the back of his mind and keeps sipping at the rum in his hand. Harry’s mixed it with something fruity and Niall’s pleasantly buzzed on their second round of the living room, passing Harry‘s strange friend who won‘t let anyone deviate from his playlist on the speakers and the boy who in a suit who looks strangely over dressed but seemingly comfortable with his feet up on the coffee table. 

“So,” someone grips around his arm and tugs him onto the sofa. Harry just laughs and slips on into the kitchen muttering something about refills and Niall’s left with a lap full of the boy who keeps waggling his eyebrows across the room at him. “And you are?” 

“Niall,” Niall introduces himself. He feels warm from the press of people and how loud it is in the tiny sitting room. His drink’s going down nicely and even the weight of the stranger in his lap is pleasant because it pushes him further into the soft cushions on the settee. 

“Ah, the mysterious Niall, I‘m Louis.” 

“M’not mysterious,” Niall objects and clears his throat. Someone’s stuck on a disco light and it’s making the room flash yellow and green and blue and it’s making Niall’s mind go hazy. 

“Are you the Niall off of the train?” Louis enquires, draining his cup and throwing it over the back of the sofa. Niall perks up and narrows his eyes but Louis only smiles serenely back at him with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

“I take the train,” Niall answers him. “What do you know about the train?” 

Louis smiles fondly at him and runs a hand through Niall’s fringe. It’s went fluffy from the rain and then drying again but Niall isn’t really bothered. “You’re cute.” 

“Thanks,” Niall responds slowly and bites the rim of the plastic cup in his hand. He isn’t sure what Louis’ doing, fingering his hair again and grinning at him but Harry appears over his shoulder before it gets _too_ weird and pushes a glass into his hand. 

“Goodbye Louis,” Harry intones to him and Louis laughs in his face, untangling himself from Niall’s lap and climbing to his feet anyway. 

“What was that about?” Niall asks when Harry drops into the space Louis’ just left, half in the cushions and half on Niall’s lap. Their thighs overlap and Niall lets his palm rest against the hot denim of Harry’s leg. He angles himself towards him and Niall can’t help but lean into his side until he’s tucked under his arm. It sort of feels like he fits there.

“Nothing,” Harry looks a bit embarrassed and Niall prods his cheek, the alcohol running through his veins making him bolder. Harry grins at him and Niall slides his finger over his cheek until he can push at his dimple, his other thumb rubbing at the seam of his jeans. “Just never bring anyone to these parties.” 

Niall sits back, eyeing the way Harry glances at the ground and fidgets with the front of his hair. 

“I don’t believe that,” Niall snorts because Harry is bloody gorgeous and probably has his fair share of people falling at his feet. He flushes again but it’s hard to tell under the green and blue flashes. 

“Not for anyone to meet,” he corrects himself, waving his hand around at his friends and looks vaguely uncomfortable. “Just uh - “ He waves his hands around again. “Nothing serious. Uh - ” 

Niall decides to let him off the hook, lifting his hand and giving him a friendly pat to the knee. Niall had kind of guessed that Harry wasn’t a relationship type of guy. Over his shoulder he can see Louis and the boy with the iPod whispering about them, they keep looking over and giggling. It’s slightly unnerving but Niall guesses that him being there in the first place is out of the ordinary. 

“Ok,” he murmurs into his cup and drains the rest of his drink. It tastes too sweet now, cloying at the back of his throat when mixed with the vision of Harry biting his lip and looking sheepishly at him from under his eyelashes. Niall blinks away, not quite drunk enough to just roll with it, to just push his palm further up his thigh until Harry gets the hint - even when he’s been fantasising about it for the past few months. 

Everyone else is loud around them for a moment and when Niall glances up Harry’s laughing at something Louis’ is doing across the room and Niall wonders if the whole exchange actually just happened. 

He suddenly feels out of place. 

“Hey Harry,” Niall grabs his arm to get his attention. “I think I’m going to head out, my roommate will be wondering where I am.” 

It’s half a lie, he had fired a text off to Liam on the walk home from the station and neither of them would be terribly worried until Zayn got home at two in the morning. 

Harry stares at him and there’s a flicker of disappointment in his eyes before he nods. “Sure, come on, we can get your stuff from upstairs?” 

Niall nods back and stands on shaky feet. He’s pretty sure he could find Harry’s bedroom again but he lets him lead him out the door and up the stairs again anyway. It’s quieter out here, a few people in the landing waiting on the bathroom who say hello to Harry but it’s a stark contrast to the music from downstairs. 

“Thanks for inviting me,” Niall says once they’re in Harry’s room and he can grab his bag and work shirt from where he left them at the end of the bed. It feels very formal and he tries to think of something to say that doesn’t call attention to the fact that he’s basically running away. “It was lovely to meet - uh - everyone.” He spies his trousers and jacket hanging over the radiator by the window and makes to get them but before he gets a chance to reach other side of the room Harry’s grabbed his wrist and pulled him against his chest. 

“I - “ he mutters but he doesn’t need to be louder they’re pressed so close. Niall can feel the thud of his own heart and then Harry glances up at him, blinks once before he’s fitting their lips together. 

He doesn’t taste of bananas. He tastes of rum and faintly of something acrid like he had snuck in a smoke while he was in the kitchen for the two minutes Niall hadn‘t been with him all night. Niall doesn’t mind though because he’s being walked backwards, Harry’s tongue working its way into Niall’s mouth until the back of his knees hit the bed and he can be pushed down on it. 

He slides on top of him easily, pinning Niall down against the mattress and planting his knees on either side of his hips. The kiss turns more frantic, nipping at each others lips as Harry begins a slow swivel of his hips, the denim of Niall’s jeans catching his dick just right. 

Niall isn’t sure how long they kiss, just long enough until he’s hard and the throb is turning into an dull ache. He can’t help rolling his hips up to meet the way Harry’s still grinding into him, deliciously slow and opposite to the way he’s cradling his jaw and kissing the life out of him. 

“Clothes,” Harry mutters when they finally pull apart for longer than a few gasps of air. He sits up, settling against Niall’s thighs so he can pull his t-shirt up over his head. He comes back tousled and Niall can’t stop his eyes trailing down over his chest and the ink splashed over it. 

“Oh,” Niall murmurs when he runs a finger down his chest, thumb reaching out to brush over a nipple. Harry gasps, arching a bit, but he’s got that smirk on his face again and he’s looking down at Niall with a glint in his eye. 

“You too,” he complains and pulls at the hem of Niall’s - Harry’s - shirt and Niall lifts his arms, wriggling a little to help Harry pull it off him. Once it’s over his head Harry’s back to kissing him, pulling off after only a minute to smooch down his jaw and scrape his teeth over his throat. 

“You should get a tattoo,” Harry murmurs against his shoulder, biting down and licking over the red. 

“You have enough for the both of us,“ Niall sighs, working his hips up again and scrambling at the waistband of Harry’s jeans. He feels him laugh into his collarbone, followed by a gasp and a muted _’yes’_ and takes it as permission to start working on the zipper. 

The music is quietening down from downstairs but Niall isn’t really paying attention, he’s more interested in the way Harry’s trailing down his chest, nibbling at the skin around his bellybutton before reaching the waistband of his jeans. 

He gets rid of them pretty easily, tugging down the zipper and pawing at them until they’re far enough down his thighs that Harry can get a hand around his dick. 

Niall gasps, arching off the bed slightly when he goes straight for it, suckling on the tip before swallowing him down. 

“Jesus,” Niall mutters, blinking at the harsh light of the overhead lamp and the heat of Harry’s mouth. “Oh God,” he swears again, bringing an elbow to his eyes so he can groan into the crook of it. “Your _mouth._ “

Harry breaks off with a laugh and Niall mourns the loss of his tongue for a brief moment before he’s rolling them over, sucking a kiss to Harry’s mouth before pushing him down onto the bed. Harry kicks off his jeans, wriggling about until he’s in the middle of the bed, curls spread across the pillow and he can get a hand into the drawer by the bed. 

“Here,” he shoves a condom over at him and Niall’s brain fizzles to a stop for a moment, mouth going dry and hands going still where they’re planted in the dips of Harry’s hips. 

“Are you - “ he asks and glances up to where Harry’s looking down at him, smile not faltering as he surveys Niall between his thighs. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” Harry groans and flops back down onto the pillows. He has a half bottle of lube in his hands and Niall nearly short circuits when he squeezes a dollop onto his own fingers. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking of this for _months._ “ 

Niall swallows, watching as Harry’s fingers trail lower and registering dimly how his knees come up and his feet plant on either side of Niall’s knees. “Shit,” he murmurs faintly, watching in a daze as Harry’s finger circles his rim for a moment before pushing a smidge in. “Christ Harry, that’s so hot.” 

Harry huffs out a breath, half way to a laugh but it’s muffled in his other hand, palm spread over his face so he can bite into the space between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Hurry up,” he finally gasps, pulling away from the hand at his mouth and twisting back. He has two fingers in there now and Niall can’t help but run the pad of his thumb around where they disappear and wriggle the tip of his own middle finger into his hole along with them. “Fuck!” 

Niall grins down at him, kicking his jeans down the rest of the way and wishing there was a more elegant way he could do that. Harry’s gasping now on every breath, eyes going unfocused when he blinks them open. There’s no real rhythm, just a twist of his fingers the same direction his are already going before he’s wriggling under him. 

“Now,” he moans into his hand again, his lips coming away spit slick and shiny. “C’mon, now.” 

Niall settles between his thighs, rolling the condom on and leaning up over him to kiss him again. He makes sure not to press down on his dick because Harry looks wrung out already. He grabs at him though, biting on his lip fiercely and digging his thumbs into Niall’s hip until he has to rock down on him or overbalance. 

“Please,” he mutters against his lips and it’s really nice to hear him beg. “Niall, please. I’ve been waiting -” he cuts off with a groan, screwing up into Niall’s belly in search of any friction at all. 

“Ok, ok,” Niall mutters because all of Harry’s talking is going to head a little bit. He twists down, a hand on Harry’s thigh and the other snaking down to grab a handful of his bum cheek. His skins hot and Niall likes the way when he squeezes he leaves white marks on his over flushed skin. “Ok,” he braces himself, mostly for his own benefit, rubbing the head of his dick teasingly over Harry’s hole just to hear him whine. 

“Ni-” Harry cuts off with a choked gasp as he pushes into him, inching into him slowly and watching carefully as Harry’s face eases out and his mouth goes slack. He’s tight, tighter than Niall would prefer if it was the other way round but Harry doesn’t seem to mind if the way he bears down on Niall’s dick is anything to go by.

“Yeah?” Niall may as well be asking himself because Harry can’t make a coherent noise anymore, just little high pitched whines from the back of his throat that make Niall want to bend him in half and listen up close. He lifts his thigh, hooking his hand around his leg and ruts into him, quickly gathering up a rhythm that has Harry moaning. 

In his little daydreams on the train Niall had never let himself get this far. A sneaky hand job below the drinks tray or a warm mouth in the bathroom as they turned a sharp corner was a far cry from dicking into him, watching Harry spread out below him with a completely fucked expression on his face. The way his eyelashes are fluttering and the bruises he knows he’s going to have where Harry’s gripping on tight to his arms - holding on - are much more real than he ever imagined. 

“Harry,” Niall gasps because he can feel the curls of his orgasm in the pit of his stomach faster than he expected. Harry nearly reads his mind though, biting his lips and letting a hand fall from it’s place around Niall’s arm to tug himself off. 

They catch eyes then and Niall’s breath leaves him, Harry’s pupils are ringed with sharp green, they’re hazy but bore into him for a moment, drinking him in and Niall feels a spiky tug just below his navel. 

He speeds up then, timing himself to the helpless little jerks of Harry’s fingers until he can feel him tightening around him, coming over his stomach and up his chest with a sharp cry. He shudders, gasping again that sounds nearly like a sob as Niall thrusts into him twice more before he’s coming too, a low groan from the back of his throat as he pitches forward onto Harry’s chest. 

He’s getting sticky with come but he can’t feel his own toes never mind process thoughts yet so he stays there, breathing damply against Harry’s chest until he catches his breath.

Harry’s nearly asleep by the time Niall’s flopping over onto his side and it’s then, in the stark quiet, after the buzzing in his ears has died down and the sweat on his back has cooled that Niall begins to freak out. Harry rolls over onto his stomach with a snuffle, his back to Niall and curled around his own pillow. He looks relaxed, his eyebrows dipping into a frown in his sleep and his lips falling open into a sleepy pout. 

Niall can’t sleep. It’s cold in Harry’s room and the spatter of rain against his window keeps him awake. The party’s quiet downstairs and Niall really wants to shower. He really wants to shower and to rewind time because he’s already regretting adding his name to the list of Harry-conquests. 

He dresses quickly, his own jeans this time, still damp from the rain earlier and makes sure he’s got everything. Harry’s dead to the world, curled up with a fist under his chin like he’s two steps away from sucking his thumb. Niall drops a kiss to his forehead and takes a step back. He feels skeezey doing this, fucking him and running away but his hangover’s beginning to kick in and it’s the only thing that makes sense in light of the awkward morning after scenarios floating around in his head. 

The bottom stairs creaks on his way down and the living room door is ajar, the disco light still flashing but the music long off. No one questions him and he makes it to the end of the street, hunched over in the rain before he regrets it. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, teeth chattering as he makes his way across town. The streets are empty and he has nothing to distract himself from the way his mind keeps running around in circles. He should have stayed, woken up with Harry and faced that it was a one time thing, that he‘ll just have to take the 6.14 train home now to avoid him or that he‘s made the right decision leaving because Harry’s never going to want to see him ever again anyway so either way he’s still on the later train. 

 

The lights are off when he gets home, an empty plate in the kitchen with a note from Zayn. 

_Where’d you get off to? Z x_ and then scribbled hastily below it - _Sorry I was starving, love Dani_

Niall sinks two pints of water before he drags himself off to bed. He feels rubbish, his head fogging up and he still really needs to shower but he pushes his way into Zayn’s room instead and pulls off his jeans. 

“You smell of sex,“ Zayn comments when he finally buries himself under his duvet and curves against Zayn’s side.

“Sorry,” Niall mutters and rolls away from him. 

“Come here you twat,” Zayn yawns and pulls him in close again. “Want to talk about it?”

Niall hesitates because he’s still a bit muddled up in his head. He had wanted this long enough, he should be pretty glad that it happened but at the same time he feels a bit hollow after it all. 

“In the morning yeah?” Zayn yawns again, making the decision for him and nuzzles in so his chin is hooked over Niall’s shoulder. Niall settles against him, timing his breathing to match Zayn’s and tries to ignore the pang in his stomach telling him that he’d much rather be cuddling someone else. 

*

The train’s a bit more fuller on Monday than usual. He finds a seat near the front of the train and stares out the window without really seeing anything until the train starts to move. His collar feels too tight and he can’t wait to get home, it‘s the earliest he‘s going to get there all week if he‘s going to take a different train home starting tomorrow. 

“That was some disappearing act you pulled.” 

Niall whips his head around and catches sight of Harry standing over him. He swallows and glances around before looking back up at him, guilty expression written all over his face. Harry doesn’t look angry though, eyes maybe more narrow than usual but he’s still smiling softly at him. 

He turns then to the woman beside Niall, “sorry I wouldn’t be able to take your seat?” He turns on the charm when she looks like she’s about to object. “There’s one just up the carriage with your name on it.” 

“Sure,” she smiles at him, standing up and letting Harry sink into the seat beside him. 

“You don’t get the train on Monday,” Niall murmurs because it’s the only thing he can think of to say.

“No,” Harry laughs and shakes his head. He reaches forward very deliberately and puts his hand on Niall’s, curving his fingers around Niall’s knuckles and offering him a small smile. “But you do.” 

Niall stares at him. “I’m really sorry,” he blurts. Harry shakes his head, giving his hand a squeeze. “I shouldn’t have left, I don’t really do that often.” 

Niall cringes and buries his face in his free hand. He’s just digging the hole deeper.

“I think you got the wrong end of the stick,” Harry admits after a moment. “I didn’t really mean it to be a one time thing. I probably should have made that clear.” 

Niall’s blushing furiously now, so he ducks his head and avoids Harry’s eyes. His heart’s thudding in his chest and he’s not really sure how to react because Harry’s just a boy he met on the train three months ago.

“That is,” Harry sounds nervous again, he pulls his chin up with a finger and gives him an anxious little smile. “If you do too, if not, well we better get a different commute.” 

Niall giggles a bit, pitching forward to press a chaste kiss against the corner of Harry’s mouth. He grins at him, pressing forward for another kiss and then another until the man opposite them clears his throat.

Niall blushes again, shrinking away from Harry until there’s more space between them. Harry laughs, wrapping his fingers tighter around Niall’s hand.

“Wanna go find where the bathroom is?” Harry whispers into his ear a few moments later when the man has went back to his paper. Niall snorts and buries his face into Harry’s shoulder, taking a moment to make sure he hasn‘t nodded off while the train was waiting to fill up. When he peeks up a moment later Harry’s still looking down at him with a fond smile and he supposes it‘s all real. 

“Yeah,” Niall gasps and struggles out of the seat. Harry cackles, jumping to his feet and trailing Niall off in the direction of the next compartment.


End file.
